The Cross Keys Photograph
by Sherlockian Dreams
Summary: Outside The Cross Keys pub, Lestrade took a picture. The first picture on his new camera. A picture neither John or Sherlock first agreed too. This is the story behind the picture. A little one shot. Hope you like it!


The Cross Keys Photograph

_A/n: this is a just a short little one shot that I wrote with the inspiration of the cutest real photo of Sherlock and John I have ever seen. I also took inspiration from a really cute little head canon for the picture I saw on tumblr. Both are not mine. I do not own BBC Sherlock in any way. I just love it so much! _

It was warm and sunny and both John and Sherlock were sitting outside The Cross Keys pub talking over the case. The strange case of the demon dog running free around the moors of Dartmoor. It was a strange case really, not one that Sherlock believed was real. After all, there was no such thing as demon dogs, or demons of any kind for that matter. John had trouble believing it too to be honest, and felt very sorry for their poor, confused client, Henry Knight.  
This was where Greg found them, as he saunters out the pub with a pint of beer and his brand new black compact camera.  
"You alright?" He asks by way of making his presence known. John grins at him.  
"Sherlock is struggling with the case," he nudges his friend in the shoulder, making him scowl.  
"I am not," Sherlock scoffs, "there are plenty of facts, it's just which ones are probable and which ones are just figments of a confused mans crazy imagination!"  
"Yeah but it's not just Henry who's supposedly seen it though," John says carefully, "I mean, think about all the others we've spoken to,"  
"Yeeeaaahhh," Lestrade draws out, capturing both men's attention, "how about you guys have fun for once! You're on holiday right? Come on then, lets get a picture of you two," he puts his beer down and picks up his camera from where it hangs around his neck, eagerly.  
Both of them stare at him like he's mad.  
"Don't be ridiculous Lestrade, we are not on holiday, we are on a case, and it's very important, and we really don't have time to take pictures when it's clear you have no idea how to use the camera anyway as its brand new," Sherlock says immediately, scrunching up his nose.  
Lestrade fiddles with the buttons on the camera, "it's supposed to be easy," he grins, "I'll learn quick, and come on, it's an important case, yeah? Then why not take it at least, to remember the case?"  
"Ridiculous. Sentimental. Nonsense," Sherlock grumbles.  
But Lestrade insists, and after a long argument, John stands up.  
"What the hell," he shrugs. He doesn't see any harm in one photo; he may as well humour Greg a little.  
He gets close to an already standing Sherlock, closing the gap between them and puts his arm around Sherlock's shoulder.  
Sherlock tenses for a second, not really sure what to make of this movement. Did he really want a picture? Sherlock has always hated pictures.  
He looks down at John. His only friend. He plans to question him with a gaze or two, but finds his plans ruined. John is just looking at the camera Lestrade has managed to get in place, his familiar small smile already put in place.  
Lestrade grins at them, "Ready?"  
Then he looks down, and frowns at the camera, his finger hovering over the capture button, appearing to have a little trouble with something. Sherlock grins, knowing he was right about Lestrade and the camera troubles.  
"That's it, cheer up Sherlock, you're in Dartmoor!" Lestrade cheers, finally realising the button he needed to press was actually the one his finger had been hovering over for the last minute or so.  
Sherlock shifts a little closer to John, and fixes a genuine (or at least as genuine as Sherlock could manage) smile on his face. John gives his shoulder a squeeze, and they both hear the little click of the camera, as the picture is taken.  
"Got it!" Lestrade shouts triumphantly, lowering the camera.  
Sherlock and John relax their pose, and John sits back down, taking a sip of his drink.  
Lestrade struggles with the camera again, and finally manages to bring the picture up on the digital screen.  
"Hey, that's really actually not that bad!" He exclaims, looking proud of himself.  
"Come on, lets see it," John waves him over, biting his lip. Lestrade hurries over, and places the camera, screen up, on the wooden table. Both Sherlock and John crowd around it.  
"That's... That's actually nice," John sounds surprised. He's not used to having a good photo taken of him. He smiles at it, "well done Greg,"  
Sherlock secretly really likes the photo. He smiles too. It reminds him that he actually has a true friend. A friend that wants to be in a photo with him, despite all his shortcomings. He wants to keep looking at it, but Lestrade takes the camera back.  
"Right then, I need to meet one of the local policemen, see you guys later," he grins at John, and heads off, leaving Sherlock and John to talk about the case again. They don't mention the photo.

After the case, back in London, Sherlock hacks into Lestrade's computer and finds the photo again. After a moment spent grinning at it, he decides to print a copy off and keep it on his dresser. For the case's sake, he tells himself, to remember the case. But it's really just because he wants to and he can.

A few months later, John ventures into his friends room to take away the not so secret stash of cigarettes. He checks the usual places, the wardrobe, the shoebox under the bed, and finally, he goes to the drawer.  
The picture is there, propped up carefully on a stack of books. John smiles, and picks the picture up, finding himself a little touched by the fact that Sherlock has kept the picture, and actually has it up in his room. Sherlock in the picture is smiling that little close-lipped smile that makes the corners of his eyes crease, and John seems to be mirroring him.  
It really was a nice picture.  
John puts it back in its place and continues his search for cigarettes.  
Though he now knows about the little bit of sentiment in Sherlock's room, he doesn't say anything about it to Sherlock. Just because nothing needs to be said.

_A/n: I hope you liked it! Xxx_


End file.
